


I'm always wanting you

by liberum



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreaking, I'm so sorry, M/M, i just wanted to write some fluff, it wasn't suppose to go this way, pardon me, really tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:31:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberum/pseuds/liberum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis knows everything, Harry wants to be used. And it's tearing them apart, but love always does, doesn't it?</p>
<p>"And they cry because it amazes them. Its balm for the cracks, water for the dying plants their souls have become. It crumbles everything until there's just them. Just love and lust and truth."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm always wanting you

**Author's Note:**

> sorry. really- ugh. this one is based on an awful amount of feels, a 9 hour flight and the song All Of This byt Blink 182.   
> yes, i did cry while writing this, sorry if it's shit.

Louis arrives late at his meeting with Syco. Grey suits, blank faces, heavy smelling rooms. He saw it coming, and wonders why they took their time with his, but Louis is not afraid anymore, he is just mourning. They say “We want to talk about harry”, he acts clueless even though he is far from it. He knows, better than all of them, what could but never will be. Louis could scream, act bewildered, threaten, he is “most definitely not gay”. But he doesn’t. Instead, says he understands, because he does. He asks “What can i do?”. They have a few ideas.

“Get a stable heterosexual relationship”. Shouldn’t be hard. It is certainly not. Eleanor comes. Nice, funny, intelligent, even fit. Eleanor. Who doesn’t own a mop of curls, dopey green eyes or dimples for that matter, Eleanor, who isn’t his best friend. Sometimes he can’t help but wonder if she knows. He doesn’t hide it as much lately, he has grown bitter and tired around her. Louis already grieved his non possible love story, already made peace with the fact that fate is not the aid of the wounded, but the puppeteer and he is just a puppet hanging by the threats. Still, she really doesn’t make a difference.

 

 

Harry styles. The key and lock of his destruction. He just needs him. With the mess of a situation in which they live in, every thing becomes tangible when Harry is around. Because the curly haired boy himself is so ethereal he outshines the whole universe. Harry is a supernova, Louis is in the center of it all, craving the light that Harry gives. And god knows that louis never asked for this. Never asked for this impossibility, never asked for this need, this addiction that consumes and rips his soul in the most beautiful way. Certainly never asked for the perpetual coalition that shatters him as a whole.

“Come on, tommo. She is nice.” But she is a she. She is not  _his_. Another night, another time, another moment he knows he will regret when he is old and loveless by choice. Not waking up every morning next to the loveliest boy alive, not being able to spend every single moment with him. Because that’s his sole desire in this life, what his whole essence pleads, screams, demands for: a life with his best friend, with the love of his life, with his soul mate. The 3 of this characters by destiny happen to be packed in a single mixture of absurdity, evanescence and pure radiance.  
  


* * *

 

All sorts of questions arise in Harry’s mind at midnight. Doesn’t matter if he is having sex with another nameless face, because he doesn’t make love to them, he is not intimate with them. They are crumbled little pieces of paper with meaningless numbers written on them. Harry still wonders how he can feel so bad but so good at the same time. He comes to the conclusion that physicall pleasure is not in the same dimension as emotional satisfaction. It is never enough. Never will be, he is sure of it. At midnight he wonders why and wants to scream and break and punch and hate. Nevertheless, every night he dreams of love, of a garden with beautiful flowers made of sweet nothings and two beating hearts slamming the walls.  
  


* * *

 

His best friend, his support, the ground beneath his feet. Louis knows Harry, he understands him. Knows him in a deeper level of consciousness. His flaws, his angles, his strengths, his hidden spots. What makes him scream, cry and laugh. Harry is home. Harry is the house where he harbors himself. Louis knows is common and lonely. But his reason to be is purpose, love, pain and forest green eyes that really  _see_  you.   
  


They are in the van. Harry and louis seated together because there is no other way to it, they need to feel each other. Harry feels like a satellite lost in space. Louis feels like his heart is missing. Each of them with a love so painful it breaks them, but the act of being able to experience it so beautiful and breathtaking it’s worthy of hope. Nobody says anything. But they have each other, they cling to each other. And the other boys don’t understand right away, never will probably but its always as heartbreaking.  
  


They are too young and too beautiful to be thrown into the world of expectations and suits and hate and adoration. Like dust in the wind they dance around the currents, doing what needs to be done, being whoever needs to be embodied. No, they are not themselves. But they are not someone else. They live in each other, lying deep within the layers of make up and lies and privileges. Grounded but floating. Loved but hating. Getting older and feeling somehow younger.   
  


Its the fear too. Rejection, hate, judgement, discrimination. From the world, from the love of his life himself. Fear is a funny thing, it keeps you alert, keeps you moving. But also poisons every moment, every thought. Its a non resting state. Louis understands the ruthless world that surrounds him, unlike the innocent boy who without meaning to, stole his whole being. Louis understands how a public life can break you to pieces, taking away everything you are.   
  


* * *

 

Harry wants to give himself to Louis. Louis wants everything Harry is willing to give. There are no physical boundaries, its harryandlouis; louisandharry, its everything. They make love and please each other, they laugh and giggle, cry and curse, fight and punch the walls. But louis wants to die every time Harry looks at him, there is no way this is what life is supposed to mean. Its not supposed to go this way. The need for a “she” shouldn’t exist. Louis believes that humans were made to love, but weren’t given the skill to understand it.   
  


* * *

 

No matter how many wishes he pleads the stars for, they never come true. Harry still wonders how all the sparkles in the sky always seem to be spelling one and only one name, the name which identifies the individual who Harry is sure he will give his life for or to, come the situation. He knows he will die, go to hell and back, suffer and cry for the piercing blue eyes that are the windows of his heaven made human. His paradise, his hell, his world. At midnight, Harry wonders how can someone be the sole reason for your intake of oxygen but at the same time take your breath away.   
  


* * *

Louis can lie all he wants. He can beat himself for being gay, for being in love, for simply being. He can pretend for the cameras and laugh but Harry is always watching and lurking. Harry is always there. She means what needs to be done, Harry means what Louis can’t be. “Dammit, she is fucking perfect” why can’t he love her? The stars keep whispering tales of green eyes and sparkling curls. He is always the answers and the questions. Harry is everything.   
  
  


And Harry comes home late. Smelling of alcohol and cheap perfume. And Harry just wants Louis, all of him, he wants whatever Louis will give him. He wants his shining star. Harry goes to his bed, thats where Louis likes to wait for him when he goes to fuck everything up. Harry undresses himself and Louis, taking care of his best friend. That night they make love. Harry rocking sweetly against Louis tightness, filling him up. And they cry because it amazes them. Its balm for the cracks, water for the dying plants their souls have become. It crumbles everything until there is just them. Just love and lust and truth.   
  
 _  
_

I won’t be alright. It will keep spiraling down until there is nothing but hurt, until they are bear and dead. Or maybe it will. Maybe love will indeed thrive and sneaky happiness will find a way to the hearts of the unlucky. Who knows? They don’t. They only know love and hate, lust and disgust, bravery and fear, truth and lies. They only know Harry and Louis.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for making it this far. again, excuse me, i really didn't mean to to this but jet-lag is a bitch.


End file.
